Of Hurt and Help
by Eternal Verity
Summary: After the events of Harry's first year, the eleven year old decides to write a letter to Professor Snape. The results are certainly not what either of them expected.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters from the series. That right goes to J.K. Rowling, and I'm in no form whatsoever making profit from this, it is purely written for entertainment.

A frustrated eleven year old sat in the middle of a large four poster bed trying in vain to write god-knows-what on a slightly crumpled piece of parchment. Every few minutes the boy would stop to reread what he wrote, scowl and proceed to scratch out his last few words. As time passed, his writing became more illegible, his tight grip on the parchment doing nothing but crumpling it even more. His frustration showing through as the quill he used the write poked a whole in the now tattered parchment.

Closing his eyes the boy took several calming breaths before proceeding to crumple up the parchment and throwing it into a now increasingly large pile. Rolling off the bed he dug through a small trunk, managing to dislocate everything from their neat and proper pile. Grabbing the pack of parchments he slammed the trunk close, before proceeding to climb onto the bed to finish his previous task.

Emerald eyes blazed as he tried to dictate his thoughts on the parchment once more, clearly displeased at the results. If one were to casually glance at the piece of parchment held in the strong grip of the puny child, they would be quite surprised at the words written.

Indeed the child had decided to write a letter to one of the most hateful and snarky men in the entire magical world.

His words were as followed:

Dear Professor Snape,

I know that, for whatever reasons, you aren't fond of me. But despite this I'm still writing to you due to the events that occurred earlier this school year. I- my friends still think that you had something to do with the Sorcerer's stone but I think that they're wrong. I'm not trying to pry Sir, your reasons are your own and to be honest I really don't want detention for the rest of my natural life but I just wanted to ask… well, are you okay? I know it's a stupid reason to write a letter, and you're probably sneering at the question and calling me a dunderhead but I know how much it hurts to keep your pain silent. I- I just wanted to say thank you, for trying to stop Quirell from killing me during the Quiddiitch match, and well sorry about your robes. Umm, I would of course love to say this to you personally but… I don't think you would…concur. Anyways, I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you hate me, and well I look forward to potions, it's almost like cooking and I'm pretty good at that. Well, have a good summer and… see you next year…hopefully.

Harry P.

The boy, Harry, reread the letter nodding in satisfaction, he highly doubted that he would actually have the courage to send it but, at the very least, it made him feel less guilty about the whole thinking Snape was evil situation. Gathering his writing utensils from the bed he folded the letter and slipped it between his potions book, in an attempt to try and give it to the Professor before he returned to the Dursley's. Shuddering at the though of what would be in store for him once he returned, he proceeded to prepare for bed, praying that their would be no nightmares to torment him tonight. Unfortunately for the boy, he was sorely mistaken…

The next day, after a night of tormenting dreams and broken sobs a small figure made his way into the Great Hall for breakfast. Ignoring the persistent questions of his friends, he kept his eyes trained on the Potions Master and the staff table, averting his eyes every time said Master glanced in his direction. Clutching the book close to his chest, he attempted to block out the nauseating smell of all the breakfast delights; even after a year of good food his stomach was still far too delicate for him to eat much in the early hours. Seeing the Potions Master discreetly exit the hall, he scrambled up, ignoring his friends in the process, and rushed out to follow. In his attempt to find his Professor, he was unable to prevent himself from crashing into a strong, dark figure.

"Mr. Potter 10 points from Gryffindor for running in the halls," Sneered the harsh Professor.

"Sir," the breathless boy began, "I- I umm well I…"

"Spit it out, you foolish child," Snape snapped growing impatient at the bumbling boy.

"I- I, never mind sir, sorry for crashing into you," the child murmured his so-called Gryffindor courage failing him spectacularly. Unknown to him however, a folded up piece of parchment slipped out from in between his potion's book, landing by the feet of the still sneering adult.

"Mr. Potter, 10 points for littering," He called out, but Mr. Potter was long gone rushing off after his murmured words, so the Professor could not criticize him on his lack of speech.

Curious, Severus Snape picked up the crumpled parchment, disgust being the most prominent emotion to grace his features. As he uncurled and skimmed the parchment, this disgust faded as his eyebrows shot up. As he came across a particular section of the short letter, shock and a hint of suspicion flickered in his obsidian eyes before his carefully constructed mask once again snapped into place.

Spinning around, the robes of Severus Snape billowed behind him as he made his way towards the dungeons. Indeed, he mused, it seems as if there was more to Mr. Potter than what he has previously believed. Sitting down at his old, paper cluttered, mahogany desk, Severus pulled out a piece of parchment and spent the remainder of breakfast attempting to write a response to the boy-who-lived, and wondering how exactly he was going to get the damned note to the bloody dunderhead before he left for his relatives the following morning. After all, subtlety was definitely not a Gryffindor trait.

It's too bad that poor Severus didn't know that although Mr. Potter may be in the house of the lion, at heart he was very much a snake. After all, the best Slytherins are those who you least expect.

Authors Note: This was just an idea that came out of the blue. Although it was intended to be a one-shot, that no longer seems to be the case. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go with this so please bear with me, and I'll apologized in advance if any of the characters, seem out of character.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters from the series. That right goes to J.K. Rowling, and I'm in no form whatsoever making profit from this, it is purely written for entertainment.

Although it was indeed a hard task to accomplish, Severus Snape did manage to deliver his response to the young Potter heir. His reaction, as Severus would vehemently deny, was quite amusing for the Professor. It was after all the last day of classes, and due to the fact that Potions was the last class of the day for Harry, never did he notice the disappearance of his letter until it was too late.

Opening his textbook to the page indicated on the board, Harry let out a startled gasp as he realized that his letter was nowhere to be found. A cold chill ran up his spine as he prayed that no one would discover the parchment that he had spent so much time writing. It would be humiliating for the young soul if someone like god forbid Malfoy discovered what he had written to his Potions professor of all people.

Struggling to calm his nerves, Mr. Potter missed the smirk that flashed across Professor Snape's face as he gazed at the panicking child.

"Mr. Potter," a harsh voice called out. Stilling, Harry could only do his best to stop his small body from shaking. The man continued, not noticing the fear in his young pupil's eyes, "Why exactly are you shaking like a twig instead of paying attention to my lesson"? Before Harry could do so much as open his mouth to respond, the Potions professor was already across the room, with Harry's textbook in hand.

Looking at the page that he was on, Snape sneered down at the cowering pupil. "Tell me, Mr. Potter," he began " Are you simply too blind for your glasses or are you just incapable of reading a set of numbers"?

Emerald eyes widened as the blushing boy tried to formulate an answer to give the intimidating teacher.

"Professor, I – I umm…" Desperate he glanced around for some sort of help. But, Ron was simply staring with his mouth half open, while Hermione was doing her absolute best to avoid eye contact. Harry's face turned a darker shade of red as he heard the barely concealed sniggering of the Slytherins.

Eyes flashing Snape once again addressed the boy, "Never mind that, Mr. Potter, the correct page is 261 not 591, do try to at least get something correct in this class." As Harry fumbled out an apology, Severus discreetly slipped his response into the first page of the textbook.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Potter," he dryly stated to the first almost second year. Glancing at the class which had stopped to see what the Potions Master would do in regards to his most despised pupil, he snapped at them, " Hurry along, you dunderheads, mark my words it is not too late to fail you". At his threat everyone snapped back to work, promptly forgetting about their embarrassed classmate, who was still struggling to read the blackboard.

That had all been a little over two months ago, at the end of the school year. It was of course a major shock to Harry, when at the Weasley's he had discovered a slightly faded parchment at the front of his textbook. The poor child almost had a panic attack when he read what was written there. After all, never did he expect his Professor would receive the letter, much less reply to him.

It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

As much as your concern touches me, it is indeed not your place to pry into the personal life and concerns of one of your Professors. However, I do have every right to pry into your own. So tell me, how is it that you know what it feels like to keep your pain silent? Furthermore, how would you, an eleven year old, know how to cook much less be good at it? I swear Mr. Potter if this is a so-called Gryffindor prank; you will be in detention with me until you graduate. Do not take my response lightly, I expect a reply upon your arrival at Hogwarts, and if you think that you can avoid the topic then I'm afraid you are sorely mistaken. As much as it displeases me, it is quite unavoidable that you will see me next year Mr. Potter, I do not understand why you would think otherwise. Enjoy your summer Mr. Potter, and at least try to remember something that I thought you.

Professor Snape

After rereading the letter countless times, Harry cursed, he could not believe that Professor Snape had picked up on such a meaningless detail when no one else had ever noticed. It was bad enough that the Weasley's had to see how his relatives treated him; the last person he wanted to find out was Professor Snape. Groaning he had spent the last few days at the Burrow trying desperately to come up with a believable answer to the questions he would no doubt be forced to answer. He knew that no matter what, Snape could not find out about the Dursley's. God forbid, if another teacher found out about…it, they would kill him, they would take this world away from him and he would do anything to prevent that from happening.

He, Harry James Potter, was a Gryffindor and Gryffindor's were brave and courageous. They certainly didn't fear Potion Master's and deranged family members, he told himself. Yes, he would not let Snape intimidate him; after all he was put into Gryffindor for a reason.

It was only two weeks later when he broke the promise he made to himself. When he saw Snape glowering in absolute fury at him and Ron, all that Gryffindor bravery faded at a speed faster than light.

"Are you two bloody idiots"? He hissed at both boys. Ronald being the "braver" and admittedly stupider of the two decided to respond, instead of just taking his scolding like any normal child. "What's it to you, Snape? Why the hell do you care about what we do"?

Snape reacted so fast that it took Harry a few seconds to actually comprehend what had happened. One minute he was outside of the great hall and in the next he was inside an antechamber with an absolutely livid Snape. The look on his face was filled with so much rage, that it caused Harry to step back partially shielding himself behind Ron. Noticing this Snape narrowed his eyes at the skinny boy, and made an attempt to calm himself as to avoid scaring him further.

"Sit," he commanded, darkly glaring at both boys. Harry was the first and the quickest to respond as Ron merely sneered at the Head of House.

Ignoring the immature behavior of the Weasley, Snape continued his rant albeit a bit more calmly, "What you two did was an idiotic move, did you not think for one second, one second that you could've been seen or that perhaps you could have possibly died"?

"Wouldn't you like that?" murmured Ron, underneath his breath. Unfortunately for him, however, Snape's hearing was quite sharp.

"Mr. Weasley," he hissed like a true Slytherins, his face deadly calm. Fortunately for the ginger hair boy Dumbledore chose that moment to interrupt. Immediately Snape's dark gaze turned on the aged man.

"Headmaster, perhaps now you can explain to these two idiots just how foolish their actions were. In fact, they ought to be expelled, immediately". He said deceivingly calm to the Headmaster.

"Now, now Severus. I'm sure such actions are unnecessary. It was after all nothing more than a silly, childish mistake. I am after all quite certain that Mr. Potter did not understand what he was doing, unlike the young Mr. Weasley." At his words both Ron and Harry's head snapped up at the Headmaster as he smiled kindly at both boys.

"But sir-" Ron made to protest, but Dumbledore simply smiled as he held his hand up stopping the boy in his tracks.

"Now, now Mr. Weasley. Unlike you, Harry isn't aware of the Statue of Secrecy, therefore as his actions were done in ignorance of the consequences he will not be held responsible." Dumbledore kindly explained to the boy whose face now matched the color of his hair.

"Sir, that's not fair. Why do I get the blame? Besides where's Professor McGonagall, shouldn't she be here," Ron whined, hoping his Head of House might be able to get him out of this situation. Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes turned hard and steely as he gazed at the boisterous pupil. Harry noticing the change in the Headmaster's demeanor immediately shied away, shrinking into his chair as to not gain the man's attention. Yet as he was trying to appear small and unimportant to one man, his actions only seemed to garner more attention from another.

Trying desperately to sound like a jolly grandfather, Dumbledore replied, "Because, my dear boy, I am sure that the idea was none other than yours and you cajoled dear Harry into agreeing. Did you not? As for you Head of House, she is quite busy with supervising the Great Hall, since I had preferred to handle this matter personally".

Stuttering, Ron turned an even darker shade of red as he sent an ill concealed glare at Harry, causing the Potions Master to sneer.

"Headmaster, regardless of whether or not Potter was cajoled into flying a car from London, he will still be held responsible for not disagreeing and providing a safer solution. If you refuse to punish him, then that is your decision, but Mr. Potter you have detention with me every night for a week, in addition to fifty points being extracted from Gryffindor for your extreme recklessness." Snape told the shaking child.

Seeing Weasley throwing Potter a triumphant smirk, Snape continued, "And as for you, Mr. Weasley, I think a week cleaning trophies with Mr. Filch, should make you rethink your actions the next time you decide to do something so incredibly stupid and reckless."

Nodding as the Headmaster dismissed them and sneering at Snape in Ron's case both boys left the antechambers, and proceeded to head to bed with empty stomachs.

The next day went by quite quickly for Harry, he was afraid that someone would jump out at him and question him about the letter to Snape, yet it seemed as if none of the students had actually given it to him. In fact, the only one who had been acting strangely was Ron, as he kept acting obnoxious and rude towards Harry. The poor boy didn't even know what he had done, and so he kept trying to apologize and as a reward for his efforts Ron would grant him nothing but a sneer and some mumbled words under his breath. So caught up, was he, by Ron's strange behavior that he didn't even remember his detention with Professor Snape until the thought of the letter popped into his mind. Not even bothering the check the time, he had sprinted down to the dungeons where he was greeted by an extremely livid and impatient figure.

"In," and "Sit," were the only words that Snape said to him for a good ten minutes, clearly trying to reign his temper in and get it back under control. As soon as his temper faded, Harry was handed a toothbrush and told to start scrubbing. Scared by what would happen if he didn't, the boy proceeded to do just that until he could feel his arms no more and so it was for the full week.

Forgetting about the letter, and the response he owed the Professor, Harry was astounded when he saw a chocolate colored owl angrily hooting at him outside of the window. Cautiously opening it, the bird simply stuck out its leg for Harry to untie the parchment, and then proceeded to fly away without so much as a glance to the boy.

Mr. Potter, it began in Snape's neat script.

Due tell me, why exactly is it taking this long to get a reply to two simple questions? I though I had made my point quite clear when I said I would find out one way or another. I am giving you one last chance to reply before I ask your relatives myself.

Professor Snape

Gulping, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment from his trunk trying desperately to think of a response that would please his Professor.

Sir, he began unsurely.

I was simply referring to emotional pain, like losing my parents and knowing that I'm burdening my relatives. There is nothing physical to it at all, like I think you're implying. As for cooking, though I'm eleven I love to cook, it's a hobby and my aunt is always so gracious in allowing me to use her kitchen. It's nothing to worry about, I swear. Oh and I forgot that I owed you a reply, sorry about that.

Harry P.

Skimming through the letter Harry silently prayed that Snape would believe what he wrote. Now, how was he supposed to get the letter to him? Hedwig, would be way to obvious, besides there would be no fun in using an owl. Sighing, the emerald-eyed boy once again slipped the letter into his new potion's textbook, intending to find an opportunity to pass it to the snarky man.

It was two hours later when he found the perfect opportunity. Walking into the potion's classroom, the sly child pretended to have accidently dropped his textbook. In the process of retrieving it he slipped the letter out of the book and placed it quite conspicuously under one of the older man's paper, before heading to his seat.

Said man watched the whole affair with his eyebrows raised and a slight almost non-existent smirk gracing his lips. Indeed, it seemed as if Potter was more than just Dumbledore's golden boy. Hell, if he had to place a bet on it, he would say that the Gryffindor wasn't Gryffindor at all.

A/N: Okay so I really didn't want to end it here, but the chapter was getting quite lengthy. I'm quite unsatisfied with it actually but hopefully the next one will get it to where I want it to be, because Snape didn't even get to read the letter yet and I honestly can't wait for his reaction. Obviously he suspects something, and no this isn't the type of story where Harry is so badly traumatized that he can't really function. No I think this will be more about building the character of two individual who through an unlikely correspondence will discover that they're more than the label society has given them. But, then again I'm not sure, my ideas tend to change with the wind so don't blame me if it ends up totally different. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews and everything. Feel free to criticize if you want because quite honestly I would love to see how I could improve my writing. Well, I bid you farewell until the next chapter, dear readers.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters from the series. That right goes to J.K. Rowling, and I'm in no form whatsoever making profit from this, it is written purely for entertainment._

**Well, I don't think I've ever written so much in my life and so I present chapter three of "Of Hurt and Help", 11 pages and over 5000 words later. Enjoy!**

Severus snarled as he read the flimsy response the idiot had given him. Honestly did the boy take him to be a fool? Not to mention, that in trying to cover up the fact that he was possibly being abused, he did nothing more than prove his point further. Did the idiot seriously not know that no happy child from a great family would claim to be a burden to said family? Not to mention the whole cooking nonsense. Severus knew that no one in their right mind would allow an eleven year old to cook in their kitchen, just for the bloody fun of it. Hell, if Potter truly liked to cook so much then why in the world was he so damn scrawny? These questions pierced Severus's racing mind as he tried to come up with a plan to help the fool. Thinking back on it the Professor was sure glad he didn't actually make that bet because with the way things were going he was sure he would lose, badly.

Grabbing the inkwell and managing to spill some on his precious mahogany desk, the Potions Master furiously wrote his reply to Potter. Honestly, if the child thought that he would believe such a horrible excuse then he had quite a lot to learn. Smirking at the now complete letter, Severus carefully put it aside to deliver to Potter during his potions class. Oh yes, young Mr. Potter definitely had a lot to learn when it came to Severus Snape, and learn he would.

Harry knew he was in for it. That smirk on Snape's face promised him an extremely uncomfortable class. He was proven right when as soon as he sat down Snape addressed him, " Mr. Potter five points from Gryffindor for your untidy appearance and being unprepared for class. Ten points from Gryffindor for having the audacity to lie to a teacher," Snape practically spat out the last part, sneering at the now extremely pale student.

Giving a nervous laugh Harry made to respond, "Lying? Who? Me? Sir, I would never-" The dangerous and all too familiar glint in Snape's eyes made the young boy pause and dart his eyes around nervously, pleading for help and some reprieve from his teacher.

"Another five points from Gryffindor, Potter, for lying again," Snape spat. As Harry opened his mouth to once again defend himself, Snape snapped, "Would you care to make it more?"

Gulping, Harry nervously shook his head trying his best not to acknowledge the glares of all of the other Gryffindors in the room and the quiet laughter of the Slytherins.

Throughout the lesson Harry did his absolute best to be invisible. But, it seemed as if Snape was calling him out for every little mistake. God, he seriously regretted not taking the time to come up with a better excuse. But, he had panicked and honestly he really didn't want the nosey man to go snooping around his aunt's house. He would've been in so much trouble if his uncle found out.

After criticizing his preparation of the ingredients one too many times Harry finally snapped.

"Well if you're so perfect, Professor, then why don't you do it?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. The look on Snape's face could make even the Dark Lord quiver in fear.

"I, I…Sir?" The young child questioned, his voice shaky as he looked up at the irate teacher.

"Mr. Potter," Severus began unable to keep the anger out of his words, "Is it your life's goal to test my patience?"

"No," Harry stated, unsure whether or not he was suppose to actually answer. Judging from the look on Snape's face it was definitely a rhetorical question. Too late for that, Harry absentmindedly thought.

Storming over to the extremely shaken second year, the Potions Master did no more but pick up the student's textbook flipped it to the right page, pointed at the diagrams and then continued on with the lesson. Everyone, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike gaped at Professor Snape as he seemingly ignored the insult to his pride.

Later on Harry would understand why he wasn't currently scrubbing the whole dungeon with a toothbrush. It seemed as if the Potions Master had indeed exacted his punishment, in an entirely different form. God, if only he had kept his damn mouth shut.

Forget that, a little voice inside of his head screamed, if you hadn't lost the letter in the first place you wouldn't even be in this situation. For once Harry agreed with the rational voice in his head, it was his own fault that Professor Snape had grown suspicious.

Potter,

Do I look like a complete idiot to you? That was one of the worse lies I have ever had the misfortune of being told in my entire life. The least you could have done was use that small brain of yours and make an effort to come up with something believable. Tomorrow, you will report to me after classes, and even if I have to drag you up by your ears, you will go with me to see Madame Pomfrey. No excuses.

You-know-who

Harry, despite his misfortune, did laugh at the last bit. It seemed as if Snape had been taken pointers from Voldemort on how to properly intimidate twelve year olds.

Dragging his feet, Harry knocked softly on Snape's door, praying he wouldn't answer. Unfortunately it only took a few seconds for a deep voice to call out, "Enter."

Scowling Harry did as told glancing around the dark office in an effort to avoid looking at the older man.

"If you're done admiring my _amazing_ office, Mr. Potter, then we shall be on our way." Seeing Snape beginning to rise and leave the office, Harry fumbled for an excuse. "Sir, wait no I'm fine, honestly, Aunt Petunia would never hurt me, honestly sir," The reaction Harry was hoping that he would get, was not the one he received.

"Petunia..." Snape practically hissed. "The Headmaster left you with Petunia?" He asked, his eyes glinting with barely restrained rage.

Swallowing, Harry replied with a hesitant nod of his head.

"No more questions Mr. Potter, quite honestly I don't care what you think about this whole situation, you will be going with me to see Madame Pomfrey and that is final."

Harry nodded his head in submission. As hateful as Snape was to him, Harry knew the man to be just as stubborn. If he wanted Harry to visit Madame Pomfrey, then visit he would, no matter how much he disliked the situation.

The trip to the hospital wing was one filled with awkward and tense silence. Neither man nor boy wished to speak in fear of enduring an incredibly uncomfortable conversation. Predictably, however, it was Harry who broke the silence, it was after all quite obvious to Severus that the boy's curiosity had been peaked.

"Sir," came the soft, timid voice of one Harry Potter. Nervously glancing at his Professor the young boy continued, "How do you know my Aunt Petunia?"

Rolling his eyes at the once again predictable question, Snape made to answer, " I lived near your mother as a child, we were friends and so I knew her sister, Petunia."

Harry didn't even bother to comment on the man's sharp, slightly hostile tone. His eyes, so much like his mother's, sparkled with joy as he beamed up at the unnerved Professor. In fact, such was his joy at the simple, insignificant statement of Severus Snape that he forgot where exactly they were heading and why. All of his life in the Wizarding World, Harry James Potter heard the same thing over and over again. In fact, he had heard it so many times that he had come to accept that he was exactly like James Potter, except for his eyes, as a fact, as opposed to the opinion that it actually was.

Yet it was the one man who despised him who knew his mother best. Harry had heard so much of James Potter that he had come to be slightly agitated every time the name was mentioned. But, his mother, his mother was someone who was still shrouded in mystery. She was a woman who had died for her son, whose eyes were as bright as the green of the curse that killed her, whose intelligence matched and perhaps even surpassed that of Hermione's, and whose kindness was bestowed upon those she deemed worthy. But beyond that, Harry knew very little of the woman who sacrificed her life for his. No one offered to tell him about the adventures of his mother, about her interests and who she was as a person. Yes, James and Lily Potter were brave, and yes they defied the Dark Lord numerous times, and yes they both loved him very much. But, the question that always occupied Harry's mind even in the dead of night was, who was she really? Who was Lily Potter as an individual?

Looking up at the dark man who was scowling fiercely down at the young pupil, Harry Potter saw a chance, an opportunity to know the woman who saved his life, the true hero who had defeated Voldemort.

"Mr. Potter, what exactly do you find so intriguing about me that you are forced to do nothing but stare?"

"You knew my mother," was Harry's simple reply, a tinge of awe still laced in his voice.

"Obviously," Snape replied, like it was the most stupid statement he had ever heard. Harry made to respond but before he could do so much as form the words; a plump figure appeared before both boys, staring at the elder accusingly and the younger quite sternly.

"Mr. Potter, Professor Snape what on Earth are the two of you doing her so close to curfew? Mr. Potter is still very much a first year, Professor-" Before the middle aged witch could continue her unnecessary rant, Professor Snape raised his ink stained hand.

"Before you continue, Poppy, you may wish to first hear what I have to say." At the small quirk of the healer's eyebrows, Severus Snape continued, quite grimly," I have reason to believe that Mr. Potter has been suffering from neglect and perhaps even abuse." At the stunned expression on the medi-witch's face, Severus nodded, his lips set in a thin line.

As for the subject of the conversation, well he was vehemently shaking his head, trying in vain to deny his Professor's statement.

"Madame Pomfrey, honestly I'm fine-" Upon seeing the disbelieving look that the school healer sent him, Harry's voice promptly died. Instead, he unconsciously decided to try and hide his entire body behind Professor Snape's thin yet lean frame.

"Mr. Potter, enough with this nonsense, onto the bed," She told the small boy as gently and sternly as she could. When he made to protest once more, Severus gave a low sigh before picking the twelve-year-old up over his shoulders, and proceeded to dump him onto one of the empty bunks.

The medi-witch gave an amused snort as she began to assess the violently blushing child.

"Now, now Mr. Potter, if you would simply hold still for a few seconds I would like to perform a diagnostic spell." Trying in vain to stall, the young Potter heir asked, "What a diagnostic spell, Madame?"

Severus growled impatiently at the antics of the child who was currently in his care. The much more patient witch however, just gave the boy a gentle smile. "It's a spell that will simply alert me to any inconsistencies regarding your health," seeing the still nervous look on the student's face, she gave him a reassuring smile before adding, "It won't hurt at all Mr. Potter, in fact I highly doubt you will even know that a spell has been cast on you."

Giving the elder woman a slight nod, Harry closed his eyes as he heard the low murmur of the witch intent on helping him to the best of her capabilities. Distinctly, he wondered if this was what it felt like to have a mother. Vanishing the thoughts as soon as it flashed into his mind, Harry's eyes fluttered open as he heard the witch let out a low gasp as her eyes scanned the parchment she held.

"What is it, Madame?" The green eyed boy questioned after he saw her pale complexion. Looking into her eyes, Harry was filled with a warm feeling; in her stormy grey eyes he saw nothing but care and concern being directed towards him.

"Severus, I-I believe you may be right regarding Mr. Potter's health," Eyebrows raised Severus took the parchment out of the woman's death grip. As he too scanned the parchment, his eyes grew dark and his grip tightened considerably. Looking at the parchment once more, the Professor raised his head to meet the nervous gaze of his most infuriating pupil.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," the Potions Master began, his voice deadly calm, "Why is it that you are malnourished, nearly blind and have had a ridiculous amount of sprained, fractured or broken bones. Not to mention, that your growth seems to have been stunted?" At the revelation of what was on the parchment Harry merely let out a nervous chuckle, as he struggled to come up with a believable answer.

"I'm um, well I'm very clumsy, and Sir, I have this annoying habit of tripping over everything…" Harry trailed off clearly noticing the dangerous glint in the older man's eyes. However, before said man could rebuke the boy and probably do more harm than good, Madame Pomfrey interfered.

"Harry, dear," She began gently, as she moved to sit on the edge of his bed, "this, well these, are all signs of abuse and neglect." Noticing Harry's attempt to interrupt she hurriedly continued, "I know that this must be hard for you, but you have to understand that what these monsters are doing to you isn't normal, it isn't right. You are a child, a child who deserved so much more than what they gave you. You deserve love and happiness and consideration, from people who actually care about you. I can help you, no, we can help you Harry. Professor Snape and I we've handled a lot of situations like these and we can help you, but Harry in order for us to do that, my dear, you are going to have to let us."

Seeing the solemn look on his face, she patted his hand gently before proceeding to cover him with the blankets.

"Get some sleep child, and when you're all rested tomorrow we can talk about this and what you want to do." Nodding his head Harry turned his back towards the adults in the room and tried desperately to escape into a world of happy dreams where he would hear his father's boisterous laugh and see his mother's loving and breathtaking smile. It was there in the warm bed of the hospital wing where Harry slept peacefully, his dreams filled only with comforting and happy images, for the first time in weeks.

It was in the early hours of the morning when Harry groggily opened his eyes. Curious as to why his peaceful dreams had been interrupted, he moved his head from out under the pillow, and pulled the blanket tighter to make it seem as if he was simply changing positions. With his eyes tightly shut, and his breathing slow, in such a way as to mimic being sound asleep, Harry listened to the furious whispering that was occurring amongst the older occupants of the room.

"Dumbledore, the boy is being neglected, abused in his own home, how can you justifiably turn a blind eye to that?" The low, rich voice of one Severus Snape stated.

"My dear boy," Began a slightly louder and edgier voice, one Harry recognized as belonging to Dumbledore, "Harry is safest at his relatives. There he is out of the reach of Voldemort. Tell me, who would think to look for Harry Potter at one of the plainest and most normal homes in all of muggle London. It's quite genius if I must say so myself, after all, the child is just that a child, and his aunt and uncle provides him with the care and discipline he no doubt deserves. After all, no one would go around abusing the boy-who-lived, they wouldn't risk it, especially not with the threat of magic looming over there heads." Dumbledore stated trying to reason with two of the most stubborn and vital members of his staff.

Harry did his absolute best to keep his breathing even. What the Headmaster had just said had struck a cord deep within him, one that made his blood boil and his entire being ache with hatred at the man who had the nerve to say that he deserved Vernon's cruelty.

The twelve year old had to bury the urge to tell the Headmaster off, as he struggled to fake sleep. Thankfully, Poppy Pomfrey immediately came to his rescue after listening to the Headmaster's little speech.

"Albus, how can you say that? Being malnourished, having so many injuries and having his growth stunted is not a form of discipline. To even indicate that Mr. Potter deserved to suffer through such cruelties at the hands of relatives no less is absolutely ridiculous. He may be in more danger at that house you insist on sending him back to every summer, than in the hands of you-know-who. Hell, if James and Lily Potter knew what their only son was enduring, the son that they died for, they would be rolling in their graves, Albus. Quite frankly, I don't care how famous Mr. Potter is, or how necessary he is to defeating he-who-must-not-be-named, he is still a child and he needs to be loved and cared for, not used as free labor or a punching bag."

The warm feeling that he had felt earlier warmed his heart once more. At this rate, he would blow his cover due to hexing Dumbledore into next year, or singing praises to Madame Pomfrey. God, how he dearly wished it were the former instead of the latter, which he would probably end up doing anyways.

"Poppy," began the stern voice of his Head of House, "How dare you speak to the Headmaster in such a way? It is obvious that Albus would never intentionally do anything to harm young Harry. You know how the boy is, hell he ends up in here more times than any of the other students, and you honestly believe that there is truly no fault on his part? The child can be quite reckless and he has quite the tendency of provoking adults, you of all people should know that Severus. Not to mention that he himself admitted to being clumsy and has denied numerous times that he has been abused. Honestly, the two of you are looking for a problem where there isn't one, open your eyes and see that Mr. Potter is nothing more than a reckless child who may have needed severe disciplining from his guardians as a child, in order to keep him in line."

Harry, try as he might, could not prevent the tears from escaping as he heard what his Head of House had to say about him. Deep inside of him, Harry had never truly trusted Dumbledore and so his twisted reasoning was not all that surprising to the hurting child. But, Professor McGonagall was someone who he had trusted, respected and even looked up to. Professor McGonagall had known his parents, had taught them and she had defended Harry on numerous occasions. The fact that she would blindly take the Headmaster's side infuriated and deeply saddened the child. It stung how easily she had dismissed the claims of Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, how she had treated Harry and regarded him as nothing more than a reckless, and low-life kid.

So caught up in his misery was he that he almost missed the words of the man famous for hating everything about him, "Minerva, my reasons for treating Mr. Potter the way I do are my own. But, that does not mean that I think he should be neglected nor does it mean that I think he is deserving of all that he has endured. I would not say that Mr. Potter isn't reckless, the boy has a knack for getting himself into unexplainable situations at times, but he is definitely not clumsy enough to give himself a concussion and a broken hand. It's quite ridiculous of you for even bringing up the notion of him being clumsy, considering the fact that he is your prized seeker. Regarding how those injuries occurred, well if you can give me another explanation, then please do," Seeing Minerva fumble over her words, trying to form a reasonable explanation, he sneered at the woman, " Exactly. The only reason Mr. Potter is denying the fact that he has suffered abuse and neglect is because he is embarrassed of being thought of as weak, not to mention he fears the consequences if his relatives were to find out that he told the truth. Isn't that right Mr. Potter?"

Harry nearly had a heart- attack as Snape turned to address him. Knowing that he had been caught eavesdropping he pushed the blanket back, and sat up staring at his hands, cheeks tinged pink from the embarrassment of being caught.

"Harry, my dear boy, it isn't polite to eavesdrop when the adults are speaking. Do tell me how much you heard, child." It took a great deal of effort on Harry's part not to curse the Headmaster into oblivion and from the way Snape was smirking he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Enough," said the quite child as he observed the Headmaster from the corner of his eyes. Inwardly he smirked as he saw Dumbledore's hand closed into a fist, as he tried not to lose his temper on the insolent brat.

"Mr. Potter," said the terse voice of Minerva McGonagall, " If you would care to be more specific, and actually answer the Headmaster's question, it would be highly appreciated." Harry's green eyes shone with unspeakable fury as his Head of House spoke to him, the sneer that graced his face couldn't be prevented no matter how hard he tried.

"Sorry Professor," he spat at the stern woman, "But I thought I was well known for having a tendency to provoke adults, but never mind that it seems as if I'm truly the one at fault considering that I was reckless enough to get caught listening in." Gleeful at the deputy headmistress's bashful expression, the preteen continued with his verbal slaying of the woman he thought he could trust, " I will be quitting the quidditch team since it seems as if it's my own fault for ending up here, when a Voldemort- possessed teacher tried to curse my broom and kill me. But, that's okay of course, considering the fact that it was due to my own recklessness, and the Headmaster can't possibly be wrong. I mean the mere thought of it is ridiculous isn't it, the Great and Almighty Albus Dumbledore wrong? As if that could be possible."

Still raving the preteen turned his intense eyes on the very man who caused the whole situation in the first place, " Nothing to say, Headmaster? How odd and here I was under the impression you knew everything. But, that can't possibly be true now can it? I mean if you truly knew everything then it's obvious that you would know how badly my relatives treated me, am I right? I guess you aren't as perfect as you want the world to see you, Headmaster. Hell, I bet the Daily Prophet would have a field day if they found out that their precious boy-who-lived was abused by muggles of all people, muggles who just happened to be related to him. Tell me, Headmaster do you believe that I'm truly at fault? Do you honestly think that I deserved to be treated as if I was worth less than the dirt under my Uncle's feet?" Dumbledore stared at the boy-who-lived, "My dear boy-" He began, before being cut off by an absolutely livid Harry Potter.

"I am not your 'dear boy', Headmaster. I am a student within this school, a student who should not be treated any differently from his peers. Therefore, I would highly appreciate it if you would address me as Mr. Potter. You, Headmaster, are not in any position to determine where the hell I am safe, and where I am not. You seem to forget that the Potter's are an ancient pureblooded family and as such I highly doubt that the Dursley's are my only living relatives. The only person I actually give a damn about in that cursed household is my Aunt; at least she tried to protect me from her husband's ire." Taking a deep breath, Harry continued his little speech as all four adults stood staring at him, too shocked to do anything, "Ironically enough it seems as if the one man who despises me simply enough for being born, and one woman who never even knew much about me before today are the only two magical beings willing to defend me, willing to look past my so-called fame and see me, see who I am. Why is that Headmaster? Am I nothing more than a pawn in your political game of chess? Or perhaps I'm the noble Queen whose sole duty is to protect her King? Whatever twisted idea you may have in mind ends here; I am not a tool to be used whenever it best benefits you, Sir. I am a person and until you realize that, I don't think I'll be able to trust you."

Dumbledore's eyes turned steely as he tried to look like a wounded animal. Sighing with his shoulder's slumped and head down Dumbledore apologized to the young boy in a tired, old voice, "Yes, Mr. Potter, it seems as if I was wrong in trying to use you. For that I will be forever sorry, and I will forever regret the pain that you suffered due to a silly mistake on my part. I know that you are angry at both Minerva and I but I do hope that you have it in your heart to forgive an old man who simply wanted what was best for the son of two dear friends." Looking at Severus and Poppy he gave them both a small nod before exiting the room, Minerva in tow. As remorseful as he had sounded and as pathetic as he had tried to make himself seem he was quite the opposite. Inside he was furious, the boy had the nerve to ostracize him and Merlin he would pay, even if it was the last damn thing Albus Dumbledore did, he would make the pitiful brat pay for what he had just said to the Great and Almighty Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Inside the hospital wing, however, the two empathetic adults were staring in amusement and shock at their shaking charge. Harry Potter was still, very much, angered by the words and actions of two of the Professors that he had trusted. But, what had already happened could not be undone and quite frankly the last of the Potter line would not have changed his actions even if he could've, except he would have probably said some better lines, now that he thought about it. Merlin, how he wished he had told Dumbledore he could bring charges against him for child endangerment, he would have loved to see the look on the old man's face if he had said that.

The remaining adults in the room, exchanged glances as they saw the devious smirk that lit up the face of their current charge.

"Mr. Potter, what in the world is so amusing?" Snape questioned, genuinely curious.

Mr. Potter glanced at the most feared Professor in all of Hogwarts, "I was just wondering how Dumbledore would've reacted if I told him I could charge him with child endangerment." Harry knew that Snape was running the possibilities through his mind due to the mischievous twinkle in his other wise dark eyes. Yes, it seems as if he and Snape had finally agreed on something, the fact that the results would have been quite amusing.

Poppy Pomfrey, on the other hand, simply shook her head and returned to her office with a tiny smile gracing her features. If only they would look past their differences, she thought, then they would see just how similar they really are.

It was less than a minute later when a quiet snort brought both boys back to reality. Harry Potter turned his head to the source of the noise so fast, that it was actually quite a wonder that he didn't get whiplash.

Noticing for the first time that the bed next to his own was occupied, Harry was quite shocked when he noticed who was lying there, eyes bright and wide awake.

A small scowl replaced Harry's mischievous grin as he turn to the source of the noise, "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

A/N: Sorry for the slow update, but inspiration didn't hit until today… so, I slowed down the pace a little, and my idea behind the story has changed a bit. But, I won't reveal where I'm now heading with it. Harry as you can tell isn't a broken and scared child. I wanted his character to be strong and so I'm trying to do that without making it seem over the top. Regarding how he spoke to the Headmaster, and considering he's only twelve now it's not expected that he would speak like that. But, I remember being a little on the sassy side at twelve and trust me if I was woken up from a nice sleep only to hear that, there is nowhere in hell I would be polite. McGonagall's attitude may or may not change, I'm not sure yet. Petunia, on the other hand, well she has a little story of her own, so I'm quite looking forward to that part. The next chapter might involve the Dursley's I'm not sure yet so we'll see. As for who over heard and witnessed the little scene in the infirmary, well can anyone take a guess? I would be delighted to know who you think it is. Anyways, until next time my dear readers.


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